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University of Oregon Bulletin 



New Series 



Vol.1 



No. 2 



Issued Bi-monthly 



January, 1904 



BEOWULF 



CYNEWULF AND HIS GREATEST 

POEM 



IRVING MACKAY GLEN 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE 
UNIVERSITY OF OREGON 



PUBLISHED BY THE UNIVERSITY 
EUGENE, OREGON 



FEB 



U. nt i), 



INTRODUCTION 

Mr. Courthope, in his admirable "History of English Poet- 
ry," inclines to the opinion that English poetry, and the study of 
it, should date its beginning with the poetry of Chaucer*. But 
lest any might consider that he held the literature of Anglo-Saxon 
England in too low esteem, he makes later, in the same chapter 
of the same book the following generous and correct statementf:— 
"From Chaucer downwards we may distinctly observe in English 
poetry the confluence of three great streams of thought, which 
blend in a single channel without any of them ever quite losing 
its separate life and identity. Of these the first, and perhaps the 
most powerful, is the genius of Race, the stream of Anglo-Saxon 
language, character and custom t ..." 

Mr. Courthope is not alone in his small estimate of the im- 
portance of the literature of Anglo-Saxon England, but few of 
his opinion have furnished those who may hold in higher esteem 
this era of our literature such an excellent justification tor their 
study of it. Since literature is an outgrowth of life, where is 
there a better opportunity for becoming familiar with the 
genius, character, language and customs of the Anglo-Saxons 
than that afforded by the study of their literature. Where is 
revealed more clearly the personality of the race? 

The work of those formative years has also another value, 
the realization of which is forcing itself upon students of English 
literature. There is a decided literary value that characterizes 
the written product of the people in England before the Norman 



*Coiutliope, "History of English Poetry," Vol. 1, p. 4-. 
tlbid. Vol. 1, p. fi. 

tMr. Courthope makes certain modifications that are unnecessary to 
quote. These do not aftect materially the statement here (pioted. 



conquest; and though the awakening to this fact is but a compar- 
atively recent arrival annong our American colleges and universi- 
ties, it has, never-the-less, arrived, and its presence is each year 
more clearly manifest. The interest in this era of English litera- 
ture is, indeed, spreading rapidly considering the obstacles, real 
and serious difficulties, that it has to overcome. 

In the first place, the English of the period during which the 
earliest literature was produced is virtually a foreign language 
many of whose forms seem more nearly akin to German than to 
Modern English. 

Again, since the increased emphasis laid upon the literary 
value of this period is of recent date, many teachers of English 
literature, who may have lacked time, opportunity, or inclination 
during their season of preparation to become acquainted with 
these early literary efforts, are, on account of this lack of 
acquaintance, out of sympathy with them and inclined to mini- 
mize their importance. 

And then, too, when there are in the domain of Modern 
English literature such delightful prospects whence one may view 
the broad and fertile reaches of an enchanted kingdom whose 
riches are his to enjoy at will, it is easy to forget humble begin- 
nings. Comparatively ie^ voluntarily pause to look at the rock 
whence they were hewn or the hole of the pit whence they were 
digged. 

It is for the purpose of calling attention to the poetical 
efforts of a race in its infancy that these papers have been written. 
They do not pretend to be exhaustive treatises of the subjects 
under discussion. Such a course, followed, would result in 
defeating the very end desired — to increase popular interest. 
Before studies complete in treatment of minute details can be of 
interest there must be the pre-requisite of enthusiasm. 

It has been the intention to emphasize at least three aspects 
of the poems that we shall discuss: — the historical, the artistic, 
and in so far as it is possible, the personal aspect. More than 
this we do not attempt. 

If these, and prospective papers of the same general charac- 
ter, serve to increase, or perhaps kindle, in the minds of high 
school and college students, and others who may have no special 



knowledge of this field, an interest in Anglo-Saxon poetry, the 
mission of these studies will be considered successful. 

The lecture on " Beowulf" was originally prepared for use 
in college classes in the University of Oregon and later it was 
used in extension work. It appeared some time ago in the 
"Oregon Monthly" and in response to requests from teachers 
and others for copies, it was thought advisable to reprint the 
article at this time. The poems " Beowulf " and " Christ, " be- 
longing to two different eras of the same general period, form a 
sharp and interesting contrast. Both are Anglo-Saxon, yet they 
are unlike each other in tone, style and theme, the one standing 
for Anglo-Saxon heathenism, the other representing the fervor of 
Anglo-Saxon Christianity. 



BEOWULF 



The Beowulf is an Anglo-Saxon poem, the oldest poem of 
consequence in our language, of over 3000 words in length, and 
written before 600 A. D. Old, is it not? And you are not 
interested in old things! Wait; let me set the stage. The coun- 
try was a sullen land of sodden skies, a land whose shores were 
swept by stormy seas, a land of grey— grey fogs and mists, grey 
cliffs, the ocean grey. Nowhere decided brightness, everywhere 
the soberness of the grey. The people were a folk that dwelt in 
homes, a folk as serious as the country. Their, pleasure was of 
the kind that hardy men could best enjoy, that we of today would 
consider to a great degree work. They had feasts, banquets and 
revels, but these were only occasional and to be accepted philo- 
sophically as opportunities for taking on a load of viands and 
accompanying beverages that staggered the reveller in more 
senses than one. From authentic accounts their capacity was 
one that would fill the bibulous man of today with awe and admir- 
ation. 

Their religion was fatalism. Their supreme deity was Wyrd 
(Wierd)fate. He was over all and ruled all. Again appears 
the grey — the threads of fatalism that ran throughout their lives. 

But the men nurtured in such a country, of such a clime 
and with such a creed were of no flimsy stuff. They were strong. 
They honored strength. To be strong was to be a warrior. To 
be a successful warrior was to be great. They feared neither 
nature, man nor divinity. The first storms that swept threaten- 
ingly against the uncertain footsteps of childhood fanned into a 
flame of rejoicing a nature that delighted in blasts, found a soul 
inherited from a race that gloried in fighting with tempests, that 
recked naught of the wild surges of wind that swept across the 
whale-road. In combat they knew no fear. Was not Wierd 
responsible for all that fell to the lot of man? Why fear man? 
All were in the hands of Wierd, and the warrior leading a beaten 



S University of Oregon ihilletin 

handful cries out defiantly: " The heart shall be harder, the 
courage keener, the mind braver as our strength decreases." 
They were in the keeping of Wierd. Their time was allotted to 
them. Man's efforts could not increase or lessen it. 

Such were our Teutonic forefathers — the Angles and the 
Saxons as they lived in the lowlands of northern Germany. 

Now we change the scene. In the early part of the fifth 
century the dwellers in the land of Britain found themselves in 
great trouble. For several hundred years they had been under 
the protection of Rome, who was powerful enough to defend her 
far away colony from marauding bands. But with the strain 
upon Roman power on the continent — the strain that ended in the 
crash of Roman supremacy — came the recall of the outlying 
legions, and before 450 A. D. the last Roman soldier left Britain 
and the people were told to look after themselves. This they 
were unable to do. They had forgotten how. Powerful bands of 
Picts and Scots crossed their borders and caused great distress. 
The Britains were po\werless to prevent these raids, and in des- 
pair they turned to "the fair-haired, stern-browed Saxon of the 
continent. Their petition was granted. The Angles and Saxons 
sent their fleets and put to flight the invaders. They did more. 
Finding the land fertile, the country pleasing and the people cow- 
ardly, they took up their abode there, ruled the people, and sent 
word back to their kinsmen to come over and possess the land. 
They came in hordes, in hosts, made settlements in Northumbria, 
in Kent, in Essex and Sussex and Wessex, and became the 
Anglo-Saxons of Great Britain. They brought with them their 
customs, manners, laws, and transplanted into a new soil their 
traditions, lays and sagas. 

Groups of lays were thus transplanted concerning a historic 
figure called Beowulf, a warrior of extraordinary strength and 
daring, of incredible endurance, and, withal, kind, mild-mannered 
and judicious, moved rather by reason than by impulse, a friend 
to helplessness, a foe to oppression. There was also a body of 
story and song concerning a semi-divine personage named 
Beowa, and it is probable that in the course of time these two 
became one in the Teutonic mind which united under the per- 
sonality named Beowulf the legends concerning the two. From 



University of Oregon Bulletin 9 

evidence found in the poem itself we know how it came to be 
written. The scops, or minstrels, the forerunners of a literature, 
sang or chanted stories of the famous deeds of their hero at 
feasts, banquets, courts and humble homes, praising this feat or 
that, contributing a little more or less of extravagance as the 
occasion demanded, each scop adding here and there a little to 
themes that elicited greatest applause, until the material concern- 
ing Beowulf began to assume the proportions of an epic. Then 
/it is probable that different men attempted to shape different 
parts of the story into verse, until one, greater than the rest, 
seeing the wonderful opportunity and being able to improve it, 
unified the whole into the poem we know at the present day as 
"The Beowulf," keeping in mind an ethical purpose, and inter- 
polating here and there enough of the Christian element to give 
it a decided coloring in spite of the heathen sagas from which it 
came. 

This in few words tells how the Beowulf came to be 
The poem may be divided into three parts: Beowulf's fight 
with a monster named Grendel; his encounter with Grendel's 
mother, and finally his combat with a dragon guardian of a 
treasure cave, in which contest, though successful, he is mortally 
hurt. 

The introduction concerns the Danes, and tells us about 
Hrothgar, their king at the time of Beowulf's visit to them. 
Hrothgar was the descendent — -great grandson — of Scyld, son of 
Scef, which, being interpreted, is, "Shield, the son of Sheaf," and 
about this is a very pretty story. Scyld came to the Danes from 
no one knew whither — a child lying in a boat, moved and guided 
by unknown, invisible power, his head pillowed on a sheaf of grain 
and about him in profusion heaps of princely treasure. He grew, 
under the clouds, in honors throve until each one of those dwell- 
ing around the whale-road obeyed him and paid him tribute. 
That was a good king. When he died, we are told that they 
bore him to the ocean's wave, his trusty companions, just as he, 
beloved land-prince, had bidden while he, with words, ruled the 
Danes. There at the haven stood, icy-gleaming and outfooting, 
the ship with curved prow. The people laid their dear war-lord, 
the mighty, by the mast, filled the keel with treasure, ornaments. 



10 University of Oregon Bulletin 

warlike weapons, bills, burnies and battle-weeds, lay upon his 
bosonn a heap of jewels which should go with him into the flood's 
keeping, then placing high over his head a golden standard, they 
let the waves bear their gift to the sea. "And," adds the poet, 
"men can not now say in sooth who took that heap." 

The great-grandson of Scyld was Hrothgar. To him now 
we pass. The kings between Scyld and Hrothgar had been just 
and wise, so the people of the Danes had increased in numbers 
and prosperity, till it came into the mind of Hrothgar that he 
would build a mead-hall — a great banquet hall — more beautiful 
and famous than all .the children of men ever had seen or heard 
of, and in time it stood as commanded, lofty and pinnacled, the great- 
est of halls. Heort he named it. Loud each day rang the harp, 
the song of joy in the hall. Bracelets Hrothgar dealt at ban- 
quets. He was a royal ring-giver. But it was not long before 
dire terror filled the hearts of the Danish revellers. Upon these 
warriors living in joys, a wrathful spirit, a mighty mark-stepper, 
Grendel by name, who held the moors, fen and fastness, began to 
work upon them great woes. After nightfall he went forth to 
seek out the high-built hall, and found therein a band of nobles 
asleep after feasting. Asleep they knew not sorrow, nor misfor- 
tunes of men, but the demon of death, grim and greedy, took 
thirty of the thanes, took them furiously, as they rested, depart- 
ing after his fill of slaughter, exulting in his booty, to seek out his 
dwelling. 

At dawn among the Danes was a great wailing upraised, a 
loud morning cry. The mighty Prince Hrothgar sat mourning, 
the strong man suffered, sorrow dwelt among the thanes. After 
a night, more deeds of murder were wrought. Again and again 
Grendel returned, till the surviving warriors fled and empty stood 
the noblest of halls. For twelve years had Grendel striven 
against Hrothgar and his men, till among many tribes were his 
deeds known, and sadly the scops in song chanted of Grendel's 
hateful war and his contests continual. Relief seemed impossi- 
ble. The mighty sat in the council, the wise pondered sorrow- 
fully, all in vain, till at last among the people of the Geats, the 
strongest man among mankind, strong with the strength of thirty 
warriors, noble and great — Beowulf they called him — bade to be 



University of Oreson Bulletin H 

prepared a ship for a journey over the swan-road to the land of 
Hrothgar. Fifteen warriors and a sea-crafty man as pilot went 
as connpanions. 

"The men shoved out. 

Men on a willing journey, the well-fitted wood 
Went then o'er the waves by the wind hastened, 
The foamy necked-float, to a fowl most like; 
Till at the same hour of the following day 
The curved prow had traversed the water 
So that the sailors then saw land. 
The sea-cliffs shine, the mountain steep, 
The broad sea-nesses. Then was the sea-goer 
At the end of his voyage, * * * 
* * * * Thankful that the sea-paths 
Easy were found." 
The coast guard challenges the band, and is so awed by 
Beowulfs commanding mein and warlike appearance that he 
conducts them in state to the road that leads to Hrothgar's 
palace. 

"The road was stone-laid. The war-burnie shone 
Hard and hand-forged— the bright ringed iron 
Sang in the armor— as they in their war-weeds 
Approached the hall. Their burnies rang, 
War armor of men; their long spears stood. 
Seamen's weapons, all together. 
Grey ash above the armored band 
With weapons adorned." 
Again a sentinel challenges them: 

"Whence do ye bear your gilded shields, 
Grey-colored sarks, and grim looking helmets, 
Heap of war shafts?" 
And again Beowulf, god-like in strength and beauty, his 
flowing hair crowned by a shining helmet, over the visor of which 
kept guard the boar's head, adorned with gold, shining bright and 
fire hardened, his beard sweeping a breast armored in battle-weeds 
of linked steel, which hung from shoulders that topped and 
squared the frame of a Titan, a frame stout enough to make good 



12 University of Oregon Birlletin 

the boasts that fell from his lips — again Beowulf with his proud 
bearing and wise words wins the confidence of the sentinel, who 
leads hinn and his men to Hrothgar. 

He tells Hrothgar that he ( Beowulf) is the very man the 
nation has been looking for. Had he not battled victoriously with 
sea monsters, eotens and nickers.-' Why should he fear to fight 
against Grendel? He has heard that Grendel is weapon proof, 
that his toughened epidermis would only dull a good sword, and 
that a zealous blow might dent him, but not seriously enough to 
cause any considerable inconvenience to the monster; so he very 
modestly scorns, in his turn, to use weapons, but will rather 
employ his knowledge of the manly art of offense and meet 
Grendel with naught but his grip, with which he will grapple 
'gainst his foe and pull out a victory if Weird so wills. 

Hrothgar relates in reply, the trouble Grendel has caused,, 
accepts Beowulf's offer to rid Heort of the terror of the monster, 
and spreads a mighty feast in the hall. And here Beowulf has an 
unpleasant experience. A warrior named Hunferth, a jealous 
Dane, envious of the honors showered upon Beowulf, begins to 
sneer at him and discredit the reports of one of the most famous 
deeds of Beowulf's youth, the swimming match with Breca. 

Beowulf replies that Hunferth has drunk too much beer and 
is not entirely responsible for his statements. Notwithstanding 
this, Beowulf proceeds, with an eloquence inspired by indignation 
and tinged here and there with bitterness, to boast as modestly as 
he may of the great struggle. For five days the contest lasted, 
and Beowulf won. Then, ironically, he continues: 

"1 have never heard told about thee any such contests. 
Neither you nor Breca ever did a deed as daring in battle- play, 
though you were the murderer of your own brothers. You evi- 
dently have not caused Grendel mjuch disturbance of mind. But 
1 shall. 1 shall offer him battle, and when the morning light of 
the second day shines over the children of men, who will may 
come to the mead-hall proudly and with safety." Then the king 
rejoiced, the harps rang, the heroes laughed, and the queen, ris- 
ing, filled a cup with her own hands and gave it to Beowulf. 

All this causes Beowulf to break out afresh and again he 
boasts, then retires to rest himself for his struggle with Grendel. 



Uiii\cisicv nl Oregon Ihilktin ^^ 

■But before he could stretch his limbs upon his bed he. all alone, 
with no one by to hear, boasts again for eleven lines and solilo- 
quizes over the possibilities of the coming campaign with GrendeL 
Finally, commending himself to God, he falls asleep-to be 
awakened by Grendel, Grendel reaching for him in the night, 
Grendel with thirst and appetite whetted by the blood and body of 
one warrior whom he had just slain; Grendel. who. after stalking 
over the misty slopes, stood before him with eyes burning with 
loathsome light like to flame, a monstrous shape, his face 
wrinkled into wild contortions of fiendish mirth, his voice bellow- 
ing in hellish laughter at the sight of so many who he thought 
would furnish him much food. 

But Beowulf, firm in mind and in grip, caught Grendel by 
the hand— never was there a greater hand grip. Grendel, 
frightened, sought to flee into the outer darkness; but he could 
not Beowulf held him. His fingers cracked, the hall groaned. 
The mead benches adorned with gold were torn from their places. 
The Danes howled in terror. The Geats drew their swords, and 
forgetful that never was the steel of sword keen enough to bite 
the flesh of Grendel, hacked and hewed at him furiously. Beo- 
wulf tightened his grasp, he braced, he pulled. A wound 
appeared on Grendel's shoulder, the sinews began to part. The 
bone-frame burst, and, sick of life, Grendel fled under the fen 
slopes seeking his joyless abode where he should die. What 
hosts had been unable to do with sword and spear. Beowulf had 
accomplished with a tremendous "pull." 

Then there was great rejoicing, and on the morrow Hrothgar 
ordered a feast and praised the strength of Beowulf, adopting him 
as his son and assuring him that no wish of his should go unsat- 
isfied if it were in Hrothgar's power to grant it. He gave Beo- 
wulf a golden standard, helmet and burnie. a great jeweled sword, 
war-horses with golden Tappings, and famous weapons. The 
queen eulogized him, and loaded him with gifts-the mead cup 
adorned with twisted gold, arm-ornaments, a burnie, rings, a 
iewel-adorned collar. Beowulf receives all with becoming mod- 
esty The warriors drink, the harpers play; the warriors drink, 
the scops sing; the warriors drink, fhey shout, they drink, they 
laugh The warriors drink. They were Hke Tam O'Shanter- 



14 University oi Oregon Bulletin 

"glorious, o'er all the ills o' life victorious." Wierd they knew 
not, and they slept in the hall each where he was when last 
awake. And the scene concludes with "that was a good folk." 

They went to sleep, but one sorely paid for that night's rest. 
Grendel's nnother, a terrible woman, nourished her grief for the 
loss of her son, till she came forth, greedy and raging, from the 
fearful waters that she inhabited, to avenge his death. The ter- 
ror that she inspired was less than that inspired by Grendel only 
by so much as is a woman's strength less than a man's. The 
warriors were paralyzed with fear that increased as Grendel's 
mother, seeing the arm that Grendel left behind him, began to 
rave afresh. Quickly she seizes a sleeping thane and hurries 
with him to her fastness in a dark land among cliffs of wolves 
and dangerous marshes, where flows a stream that pitches into a 
lake below, which has no bottom and which seethes with fire on 
its surface — an underground sea, above which are firmly rooted 
forests — a haunted place of boiling waters rising dark, a place of 
hateful storms, a place over which the heavens weep. 

At morning Beowulf was brought to the hall, where Hrothgar 
acquainted him with the tragedy of the preceding night, promis- 
ing much additional treasure if Beowulf will seek out this second 
destroyer and kill her. The hero welcomes the task, and accom- 
panied by the king himself and a band of warriors, he sets forth, 
following the foot-tracks of the evil-doer on forest paths, over 
murky moors, down steep, stony slopes and narrow ways, along 
straight single paths and unknown courses, past the headlands 
high and sheer, the abodes of nickers and eotons, until all at once 
he comes upon her joyless abode, the sea that stretches far and 
deep, gory and seething, under the ground. There lay the head 
of the murdered thane. The flood boiled with blood. The war- 
riors blew their war-horns, and dragons, serpents and huge 
worms turned, writhed and slid into the surging, hissing sea be- 
low. Of these Beowulf recked not. Girded with his noble 
armor, he set his helmet that no flaming war-sword could bite 
firmly on his head, and stood ready again to grip in battle. Out 
stepped Hunferth who had jeered him at the banquet and handed 
to the hero his own sword, Hrunting by name. Never had it 
failed in fight. Hunferth forgot the words that he spoke when 



University of Oregon Bulletin 1^ 

drunk with mead, and gave his arms to a warrior whom by this 
act he acknowledged to be his own superior. After a few boast- 
ful words-for Richard is always himself in this tale-Beowulf 
Dlunged in and the flood took him. 

The poem has before stated that this flood was bottomless 
but after sinking for a day. Beowulf touched bottom and found, 
prim and greedy, what he was looking for. They grappled. She 
wounded him. She gripped her fiendish fingers into his corsele 
and bore him to her darkest den where she was proof against 
man-made weapons. Here strange sea monsters attacked hmn 
They were beaten off. Then having drawn the good sword 
Hrunting. Beowulf struck at the fiend and on her head sounded 
the ringed blade in greedy war-song. But lo ! she was uninjured. 
Hrunting had failed. Enraged he cast from him the jeweled 
sword and sprang at her with nothing but his hands for weapons. 
He hurled her to the floor. Again she wounded him with her 
daws and, with her short sword, struck him an avenging blow, 
but the sword's edge turned upon Beowulf's burnie. Then 
having seen among a pile of swords an old weapon giant-forged 
Beowulf seized the chained hilt, brandished the ringed sword, and 
in despair struck. The edge bit on her neck. Her bone-rings 
broke The steel pierced through her fated body and she fell. 
The hero turned glad in triumph and saw the body of Grende 
his first foe. lying dead on the floor. In P-^^ h^^^"^°^f ?" 
Grenders head. Into the flood the blood welled forth, and the 
warriors on the shore above, when they saw the tide stained with 
red the waves stirring the clotted gore, mourned and forsook the 
place weening that Beowulf, their dear lord was no more. But 
he was safe and was soon swimming up through the water glad in 
n.ood, bearing the head of Grendel. The thanes looked back 
and sa^ him and turned to meet him with welcoming shouts. 
He brought not with him the sword of the giants, for the poison 
of the blood into which it had cut had melted it away to the hilt 
in Beowulf's hands before he left the pool. The hilt he gave to 
Hrothgar after relating his adventure at the bottom of the mere 
Then in spite of entreaty to remain he and his attendants turned 
the prow of their ship homeward, laden with gold and treasure. 
Upon Beowulf's arrival among his homefolk. the Geats. he 



1(> University ul Oregon Utii/etui 

is welcomed with feasts and banquets and praised by iiis king for 
the bravery and valor displayed in his combats in the land of 
Hrothgar, the Dane, about all of which Beowulf has told the king. 
Upon the king's death, Beowulf wore the crown and wore it 
well for fifty winters. He was aged. He ruled well a happy peo- 
ple — happy, till a dragon, who on a high heath guarded a treasure 
cave in a steep, stony mountain, enraged, because of a theft 
committed by one of Beowulf's subjects, wrought great woe. 
With flame and fire provided the dragon went forth breathing 
destruction upon the bright dwellings of the Geats. There was 
naught living that the hateful "air-flyer" was willing to leave. 
The terror was quickly made known to Beowulf who, distressed, 
his breast swelled with gloomy thoughts, as was to him not usual, 
prepared for the contest with the fire-drake. He bade to be 
fashioned a wonderful war shield, all made of iron, knowing well 
that wood could not withstand the flames of the dragon's breath. 
He feared not the contest but his soul was sad. Wierd was very 
nigh. With a band of twelve he sought out the treasure cave 
and its dragon keeper. Beowulf spake with boastful words, spake 
for the last time. "I survived many wars in my youth, and now 
1 will — the guardian of the old — the contest seek, with honor 
work, if me the fell foe from his earth-hall dare seek out." 
"This is no coward's work," he continues, and advancing alone 
against the demon smites him a fearful blow with tiis mighty 
sword "so that the edge softened." The dragon fierce belched 
forth the death-fire. Far and wide spread the flame of battle. 
Beowulf's sword failed as it should not, but Wierd would not per- 
mit him to triumph in battle. Again the fierce ones met in 
strife. Beowulf, surrounded by fire, was in sore distress. His 
retainers stood fearing — till one braver than the rest, rushed 
through the flame to the help of his lord — after a long harangue 
of thirty lines to his followers — and announced to Beowulf his 
intention — in about fifty words — of assisting Beowulf. Upon 
them both the angry worm came, the terrible demon "again 
seeking with fire-waves to consume his foes." The flame billows 
burned the shield to the rim. Beowulf's sword broke in two 
from his powerful blows. Then mindful of his former strength, 
he rushed upon the monster and grasped him about his sharp 



University of Orei^oii Bulletin 17 

and bony neck. With hand burning and life blood pouring he 
reached for his war-knife and cut the serpent in two. 

But this was Beowulf's last triumph. The wound that the 
fire-drake had before inflicted began to burn and to swell so that 
he soon perceived that in his breast deadly welled the poison. 
He seated himself on a stone, bloody, wearied with battle and 
deathly pale. He knew that he had spent his allotted time of joy 
on earth. He asked his retainers to bring before him the dragon's 
treasure. Upon returning from the cave, his warriors found 
their lord faint and bleeding. They revived him with dashes of 
cold water till he could speak to them again. He gave the 
treasure to his people and requested that they make a mound, 
bright after the funeral pile, at the sea's point which should be 
called Beowulf's mound. Then from his breast went his soul to 
seek the judgment of the saints. Again they sought to revive 
him, but in vain. 

Such is the story of Beowulf. The poem is a strange ming- 
ling of heathen saga and Christian sentiment, superstitious fear 
and undaunted courage. In spite of its numerous passages of 
Christian coloring, it is distinctly heathen. Among the facts that 
may be gleaned from it — facts that if we had no other evidence 
we would know — are that the Anglo-Saxons as early as the sixth 
century had courts and court observances, that they met for great 
feasting occasions in meed or beer halls. Their very word for 
banquet is " gebeorscipe," which being interpreted is "beer 
ship." We learn that they had servants regularly appointed to 
perform specific duties, that they were a musical people and that 
no feast was complete without song, nor no king complete with- 
out his scop or minstrel. 

We learn that they possessed ideas concerning the final 
disposition of their semi-divinities similar to those held by the 
Hebrews regarding the supernatural disappearances of some 
of their prophets. We learn that they maintained the cus-^ 
torn of payment for offenses by certain fees or fines, and that 
even a human life had its specific valuation. We know that 
they possessed a philosophy that numbers millions of adherents 
even in this day and generation. And finally we learn that the 
English language possesses a great poem older than any of its 



18 University ui Oregon Bulletin 

.Teutonic sisters, richer in its beauty, more rugged in its grandeur, 
more simple and direct in its telling, with passages as lofty as 
those of Homer, scenes as dramatic as those of Virgil and 
descriptions as vivid as those of Dante. 

In all its variety it is uniformly masculine. Woman appears 
in its lines, but nowhere prominent enough to take the mind away 
from the pervading spirit of the masculine. Nowhere does she 
appear as an instrument of the deities to interfere with the or- 
dained lives of the men of the Beowulf. Woman is given her 
place — an honorable place — whenever she is mentioned, but the 
men are not distracted from their pursuits or drawn into strife on 
her account as in the Iliad of Homer where Helen of Troy cre- 
ates domestic troubles of unprecedented proportions, brings woe 
to warriors and death to many heroes. Beowulf does not delight 
in the caresses that Virgil in his Aeneid dispenses to Aeneas 
from the arms of Queen Dido. Nor do we find accounts of pun- 
ishment for sinful amours that Dante's poem records. There is 
not one stroke of the brush to cloud the holiness of motherhood — 
not one line that makes of naught the obligations of wifehood — 
not one insinuating word against the innocent purity of maiden- 
hood — not one breath that would dim the radiant lustre that 
shines from and crowns the nobility of womanhood. 

The poem is not softened by any touches of child life. In 
the Iliad, as the warrior goes to battle, he kisses his wife farewell 
and bends lower to kiss the child that nestles in the mother's 
arms. But the child is frightened at the war-like appearance of 
the father, especially at the helmet crowned with a great gray 
plume that nods and bends so terrifyingty and threateningly that 
the child draws back in fear. The father understands and smiles 
as he removes his helmet and again stoops to kiss the babe that 
this time does not shrink, but reaches up his dimpled arms to 
assist in the ceremony. The Aeneid also pictures here and 
there the solicitude of the elders for the little Julius. But the 
Beowulf is a poem of manhood. 

Though epic in quality it is an anthem of forest, crag, cliff, 
sea, fen and shore. Not the whirring, fluttering murmur that 
faintly stirs the air and floats off lightly through the firs, uncer- 
tain tremulous, high in the trees, a soft, shy rustling quivering on 



Unhcisity ol Orej^oii Ihillctin 19 

the breeze, a song that flings its mounting measure from branch 
to branch or passes from twig to needle-tip in murmurings som- 
nolent and soothing; droning slumbrous, dreamy, drowsy, low- 
sung things; not that. 

It is another surging song that springs 

With sudden swirls, then swells and sweeps the strings 

Of a hundred hidden harps — that wildly wings. 

That shrieks and swoops, soars, whirls and swings 

The forest through in frenzied riotings. 

The song in which the pine defies the sea, 

A challenge — Strip me of branches. Give me spars 

And rope-bound, sail-wrapped, winter stars 

Flashing their lances through the frozen air 

Shall see me borne by swiftly scudding keel 

Before the furious blast, standing all staunch 

In spite of strain and tug and desperate plunge 

True to my ship, its captain and its crew. 



Vnivcisity o/ Oregon fhilletiii 21 

CYNEWULF AND HIS GREATEST 

POEM 



Each of us has his own peculiar misfortune. With one 
it is excess of riches. With another, it is poverty. One has 
too many friends, while another may suffer because he has none. 
Dr. Johnson might have considered the attention of Boswell as 
a misfortune; but with Cynewulf it was the lack of a Boswell that 
we must consider his great misfortune, for beyond a few facts 
gleaned from a few poems that he signed in runic characters*, 
nothing is definitely known concerning the life of the greatest 
Christian poet of the Anglo-Saxons. Many articles have been 
wriitent, the greater number by German critics, which are full 
of speculation and conjecture. Attempts have been made to 
identify him with historical characters of the same name, but 
these have not been successful, nor have those other efforts that 
pretend to give an account of his life from his infancy to his 
death been considered more than ingenious inventions. 

If we accept the theory that Cynewulf was born fifteen or 
twenty years before the death of Bede, which is given as occur- 
ring in 735, the poet must have been born, at some time 
between 715 and 720 A. D. Exactly when, no one yet knows 
The conditions in England during the years prior to his birth 
and also during his life were characterized by constant change. 
This was particularly true of the political conditions. $ In the 
south, Ceolred's§ war against Wessex had followed Aethelred's 
peaceful reign of thirty years and the abdication ot Ine, king of 

*Since this curious signature might be of interest, I give it here as it ap- 
pears translated from the poem , with the words supposed to be represented 
by each letter:— K, Cene; Y, Yfel; N, Nyd; W. Wyn: XJ, Ur; L, Lagu; F, Feoh. 
These mtan respectively:— keen, evil, need, joy, us, fortune. 

f A small bibliography is given by B. Ten Brink in his "English Litera- 
ture," Vol. 1, Appendix B. A very lull treatment of the theories concerning 
"Cynewulf" may be found in the "The Christ of Cynewulf" [Cook] pub- 
lished by Ginn & Co., Boston. 

tA more detailed account ot the political historj- of these years may be 
found in Green's "Short History of the English people. 

SCeolred Wfis kin:^ of Mercia. 



22 I'mvcrsity ul Oregon llulletln 

Wessex (726), out of sheer disgust at the vacillating tendency 
of his subjects' loyalty, left Wessex at the mercy of Ceolred's 
successor, Ethelbald. The king came to the throne in 716, 
after Ceolred's tragic death at his own board. During the years 
between 716 and 726, Ethelbald refrained from war. but when 
Ine removed from the scene, the prejudice that Ethelbald had 
against war also disappeared and war began — to last for over 
twenty years in a desultory way. In 754, however, his troubled 
and troublesome reign began its conclusion. Ethelbald's entire 
force was arrayed against Wessex. The battle was raging. The 
issue was doubtful. Victory might perch upon either banner; 
but suddenly, in the midst of brilliant and valorous action, Ethel- 
bald turned and foremost fled. Three years later, a company of 
his own ealdormen slew him. 

In the North, however, in Cynewulf's country, the situation 
was different. Ecgfrith, son of Oswin did not care for war. 
There was to be a season of comparative peace in which North- 
umbria should stride to the throne of intellectual supremacy in 
England. There were, to be sure, a few minor struggles with the 
Picts and Scots just over the Northern border; and once 
Wulfhere attacked Ecgfrith from the South, but these engage- 
ments only resulted in additional territory for Northumbria. 

But after some years, there came a greater rising of these 
Picts and Scots, in 685, and " in a few days more a solitary 
fugitive escaped from the slaughter told * * * that 
Ecgfrith and the flower of his nobles, lay a ghastly ring of corpses 
on the far-off Moorland of Nectausmere."* 

During the reign of Aldfrith, the Learned, and his four suc- 
cessors, Northumbria really laid aside the sword for the pen and 
became the center of intellectual activity in western Europe. But 
after Bede's death, the storm of human folly and passion again 
burst forth and Northumbria exchanged her greatness for fifty 
years of revolt, treason and anarchy. 

And now that we have turned for a moment to look into the 
unsettled politics of Cynewulf's England and have located the 
poet's advent into these troubled conditions as exactly as possible, 
we will pause only for a glance at the religious conditions of the 

* (ireen's "Short History of HnKlisli Peoiilc." 



University ol OrcL^ou Ilullctin 23 

country before proceeding with our discussion of Cynewulf. 
Christianity was making headway against all opposition, but the 
fierceness of opposition had made Anglo-Saxon martyrs. The 
new religion was comparatively well established before Cynewulf's 
time, but the memory of its struggles against the old for suprem- 
acy was yet fresh enough in the minds of English Christians to 
act as an inspiration to great zeal. The convert wanted to cele- 
brate his conversion by doing something. If he vwere a king, he 
sought the conversion of his people, or donated the site for a 
monastery or cathedral. Some would copy manuscripts, others 
would make missionary pilgrimages. The daughter of a king 
would become a nun and realized her greatest ambition when she 
reached the high place of abbess. If the convert vvere of hum- 
bler station and without remarkable gifts, he would if possible 
connect himself with an abbey or monastery and perform menial 
tasks for those above him as we are told Caedmon did before he 
received the gift of song. But if the new believer already pos- 
sessed poetic ability, he would, after his conversion confine his 
efforts to religious themes. 

And now we come to Cynewulf. It is perfectly safe to say 
that this Northumbrian poet, in common with many English 
poets of later years, had two periods of literary activity— one of 
youth, the other of maturity. 

There is a sweet-voiced band of singers known as the seven- 
teenth century lyrists. These poets wrote in most instances two 
kinds of verse— secular and sacred. Their secular verse is not 
supposed to be the result of or conducive to any great amount of 
spirituality. It was the song of their full-blooded, strongly puls- 
ing youth in days when differences in personal tastes and opinions 
were adjusted by the sword. Their sacred verse, however, was 
the result of a clear vision of the vanity of worldly folly and was 
redolent with, or at least intimated the advisability of piety. And 
why should not years bring wisdom and experience a riper judg- 
ment.'' 

Now in the same manner did the poetry of the youthful 
Cynewulf differ from that >vritten by Cynewulf the maturer man. 
In his youth he was probably a wandering minstrel* or glee-man. 

■-■'rcn Brink ,-ind Brooke incline to this opinion. 



24 i'mversity ui Oregon I In lie t hi 

easy, careless, "wicked," he later describes himself, who saw 
the varying aspects of the life about him, who was of that life, 
and who wrote of the things he saw as he saw them. The liter- 
ary work of these early years is represented by the "Riddles," 
eighty-nine in all, whose popularity was made possible by the 
wondering attitude of a race that naturally viewed nature as an 
enemy, that but lately had forsaken its philosophy of fatalism and 
now was evolving slowly, carefully, thoughtfully, and with ques- 
tionings into a people striving toward a unity of new purpose, 
begotten by the comparatively new influence that eventually 
changed the entire philosophy of the Anglo-Saxon race. 

The broad field of subjects covered by these Riddles and his 
apparent familiarity with each subject indicates that the career 
of their propounder must, indeed, have been varied. It would 
hardly have been possible for one who had not had opportunities 
for close observation and experience to have treated subjects of 
war, of agriculture, birds, beasts, musical instruments and tem- 
pests with the skill and sympathy that Cynewulf displayed in his 
riddles on the sword, the shield, the coat of mail, the battering- 
ram; the helmet; the plow, the rake the loon; the nightingale, the 
falcon, the swan; the ox, the badger, the bull, and the stag; the 
horn; the reed flute; the storm on land, the storm on sea. and the 
hurricanes. But a change came upon this life of happy wander- 
ing. Its attractive glitter vanished. Travel held no longer the 
charm of vanity. Princely patronage paled into insignificance 
before the desire of divine approval. The agency that brought 
about this change was a vision — a vision of the Rood. Stricken 
with remorse over wasted years, inspired by the completeness of 
a pardon that could cover all transgression, desiring to atone, in 
some degree, for youthful wickedness, Cynewulf turned the course 
of his song into more serious channels, and applied himself to 
scriptural themes and ecclesiastical traditions which he brought 
forth adorned in verse "with much sweetness and inspiration." 
His greatest poem is "Christ." 

The introduction to the poem "Christ" has been lost, but 
the first word "Kyninge" [to the King] is as eloquent an introduc- 
tion as the poem needs. 



( nivcrsity at urci:<tn liulletin 25 

* * * * To the King 

Thou art the wall stone, that the workers once 
Rejected from the work: Well it beseemeth thee 
That thou shouldst be the head of the noble hall 
And join together with firm fastening 
The spacious walls with flint unbroken 
So that throughout earth's cities all things seeing 
May wonder forever. Lord of Glory ! 
With such a song of adoration opens the first of the five 
parts of the "Nativity," itself the first of the three divisions of 
the Christian poem, "Christ." attributed to Cynewulf. And the 
vigor of faith, the worshipful spirit, the deep pervading reverence 
indicates that in Anglo-Saxon, England, some where, two cen- 
turies of Christianity had been centuries of amazing spiritual 
growth. Yes — even less than two centuries measured the time 
from that condition where Wyrd was "o'er all and ruled all" to 
the era which acknowledged the "Eternal Creator" as the "Lord 
of Glory" and the "Shaper of Earth," the "Ruler of Men." 

Following these opening lines is an appeal from humanity to 
the F'ather, as from one who "in prison sits yearning for the 
sun's bright course," for mercy toward the race which, by the 
coming of his son has been saved when it was all depraved. 
With exclamations of wonder at the immaculate conception, invo- 
cation for blessings to rest upon the "Holy Citadel of Christ," 
"Jerusalem" and rejoicings that the words of the prophets have 
been fulfilled, that the works of the Hebrews are to be destroyed, 
joy to be brought to the children of men and their bonds to be 
loosened, the poet closes the first part of his work and launches 
into the second with a glowing address to the Virgin. He would 
know the mystery surrounding the immaculate conception and 
birth of Christ, and the Virgin though she answers to his speech, 
does not answer his question further than to say that, "Verily, to 
men is the mystery not known," but that since Christ was born 
of woman, the curse against Eve has been overthrown and that 
man and woman alike may have the hope for eternal salvation. 

The third section opens with a dialogue between Mary and 
Joseph which indicates very plainly that the mystery shrouding 
the birth of the Savior has puzzled the minds of men before our 



26 Univeisity ul Oregon Ihilletiu 

century. The faith of Joseph has been shaken by the taunts and 
ridicule of his neighbors and Mary, troubled, asks, "Must thou 
forthwith renounce thy troth and leave thy love?" Joseph in his 
reply tells how hateful speeches, scorn and contempt have been 
his portion beyond his ability to endure longer. 

" 'Tis everywhere known that from the glorious temple of the 
Lord I joyfully received a pure maiden and spotless; and now all 
is changed through whom 1 know not. It avails me nothing 
either to speak or to be silent." Mary in return reasserts her 
innocence of any crime, asserts her fidelity to Joseph and tells 
him how that when she was but a child, Gabriel, the archangel, 
told her, in a vision, that she should bring forth an illustrious son, 
begotten of heaven, the mighty child of God, of the bright Creator. 
She bids Joseph dismiss his foreboding and rejoice that he is 
the earthly father of such a son. 

Then the poet ascribes honor and glory to the King of 
Heaven for his power to work wonders from the time when the 
command "Let there be light" fell from his lips, to the time 
when he sent his own son into the world incarnate in human 
flesh. The coming of that son, brought to man his chance for 
salvation. Man had been lost. 

"The accursed wolf, beast of darkness, hath scattered thy 
flock, oh Lord, hath dispersed it far and wide. * * * Where- 
fore Savior we pray thee earnestly with our inmost thoughts that 
thou speedily grant help unto us, weary wretches, that the mind's 
destroyer may fall low down to hell's abyss and that thy handi- 
work, Creator of men, may then arise and come aright unto the 
noble realm above in heaven whence erst the swart spirit, 
through our love for sin beguiled and misled us, so that void of 
glory, we must ever eternally bear misery unless thou Eternal 
Lord, living God, Helm of all created things, wilt free us 
the more speedily from man's destroyer." 

The fourth and fifth sections of the Nativity are prolonged 
apostrophes to the Virgin and the Holy Trinity respectively, and 
breath forth a spirit of devotion that is as eloquent as it seems 
sincere. The ideas contained are not at variance with those of 
the orthodox churchmen of today — that is, those held by the 
orthodox Catholic churchmen, for Protestantism was not 



l'ni\crsity nl Orei^ou liulletin 27 

dreamed of when this poem was written. The virtues and power 
of Mary form themes over which the poet becomes exultant and 
to the efficiency of which, through the intercession with the Son 
and the Father, he appeals in repeated prayers for mercy for a 
fallen race whose soul, in bonds, cries out for life and light. 
Faith is triumphant. And in the poet's celebration of the Trinity, 
the picture of the shining throne supporting the Almighty Ruler, 
cherubim and seraphim, angels wrapt in harmony and beating 
with their wings, pressing, hovering as near their Lord as possi- 
ble, fluttering, soaring, swinging and sweeping exultantly in 
clouds about the throne of the Lamb, ecstatic in their happiness 
and crying, "Holy, holy, art thou, Lord almighty"— this pictures 
a scene as splendid as anything that modern poetry and song have 
to offer us in describing the glory and beauty of that ctty built 
without hands, eternal in the heavens. 

After his death and burial, he comes forth and in the first 
part of "The Ascension," ere he hastens to his Father's Realm, 
Christ recompenses in words of cheer his beloved comrades; — 

"Rejoice ye in spirit. Ne'er will 1 turn away but 1 will show 
my love toward you ever and grant you might and abide with you 
ever to all eternity, and through my grace ye shall never know 
the want of sustenance. Go now o'er all the spacious earth, o'er 
the wide ways, announce to men, preach and proclaim the bright 
belief and baptize folk beneath the skies, turn them to heaven. 
Break idols, cast them down and hate them. Extinguish enmity, 
sow peace in minds of men by virtue of your powers. 1 will ever 
stay with you in solace, and will keep you in peace with stead- 
fast strength in every place." Then suddenly a sound was 
heard, loud in the air, a band of heavenly angels, the messengers 
of glory, a beauteous host in legion came; our King departed 
through the temple's roof, where they beheld, they who watched 
the dear One's track, the chosen thanes, there in the meeting 
place they saw the Lord, the child divine ascend from earth 
into the heights. 

Sad in soul, grief burning hot within their hearts, the disci- 
ples stand watching, gazing, when suddenly from the angelic 
hosts, resplendent, rejoicing and joying in the glory of the light 
that gleams from the Savior's brow, there bursts a song raptur- 



2S ( nivcrsity ol Oregon I'.iiilet'ti 

ous, ecstatic, praising the Creator, the glory of all kings and out 
from the song comes high and clear, "Why bide ye here and 
stand about, ye Galilean men? Now see ye the true King, the 
Lord of Victory, manifestly wending to the skies. The chief of 
princes with their hosts of angels, the Lord of all mankind, up 
from hence will soar unto his native home. His Father-land." 

The account here given does not follow closely that of any of 
the four gospels, but resembles the one found in Luke perhaps 
more than that found in any of the others. The poet speaks of 
Christ's passing up through the temple roof. But it is not probable 
that he meant any thing other than a figurative expression for the 
sky. St. Luke mentions that Christ lead the disciples out of Jeru- 
salem to Bethany and there was caught up from among them. 
But in none of the four gospels is there an attendant band of 
heavenly retainers. The poet supplies the deficiency. 

After the ascension, the disciples turn back to Jerusalem. 
"There was unbroken weeping. Their faithful hearts were over- 
whelmed with grief." 

At this point, in the second section of the ascension, the 
poet introduces an explanation of the presence of that band of 
angels. 

There was an apocryphal tradition to the effect that, when 
Christ was buried, he descended into hell, bound Satan and 
released the captive souls in Satan's kingdom. This tradition is 
spoken of as "The Harrowing of Hell" and is a part of the 
apocryphal gospel of Nicodemus*. 

A curiosity contained iii the fourth section of the ascension 
is a poetic setting of a comment found in one of Gregory's 
homilies on the passage in the "Song of Solomon" in which 
Christ is spoken of as coming "leaping upon the mountains, 
skipping upon the hills." Gregory gives the number of leaps as 
six and so does Cynewulf and defines them in twenty-two inter- 
esting lines, the first being his incarnation, the second, his birth; 
the third, the crucifixion; the fourth, the burial; the fifth, the Har- 
rowing of Hell; the sixth, the ascension. 



* The Anglo-Saxon gospel of Nicodemus lias been edited by .\lr. W. H, 
Hwlme and may be found in the " Fulilications ol tlie .Modern L:iuguagc 
Association of .\nieriea." \'ol. XIH, Xo. 4-. ls<).s. 



I'liivcrsity of Orci^on Bulletin 29 

Ascension Pt. Ill recounts the reasons why it is fitting that 
the tribes of men should give thanks to God. "He giveth us 
food and fullness of possessions, wealth over the spacious earth, 
and gentle weather under the heaven's protection; sun and moon, 
noblest of lights, heaven's candles, shine for all men on the earth 
alike, dew falleth and rain; they call forth abundance to nourish 
life for all the race of men, earth's riches increase! " But most 
of all should we give thanks and praise for the hope of salvation 
which Christ gave to us at his ascension. The ancient decree, 
" I wrought thee on earth and on it shalt thou live in want, shalt 
dwell in toil, and await vengeance, shalt sing the death-song for 
thy foes' delight, and shalt be turned again to that same earth 
with worms o'er charged, whence thou shalt seek thereafter the 
fire of punishment," — has been averted and provision, by the 
atonement, has been made for our soul's peace. Further, God's 
spirit son has ennobled us and given us gifts. "To one he send- 
eth from memory's seat the charm of wise words. ^ ^ # He 
can sing and say full many things within whose soul is hidden the 
power of wisdom. One can ^ ^ ^ wake the harp and 
greet ihe glee beam; one can expound aright the law divine; one 
can tell the constellation's course; ^ ^ ^ one can cunning- 
ly write the spoken word; to one he giveth battle speed, when in 
the fight the shooters send the storm of darts, swift flying arrow 
work over the shield's defense; one can boldly o'er the salt sea 
drive the ocean wood and stir the water's rush; one can ascend 
the lofty steep: another can work the steeled sword and weapon; 
while yet another knoweth the plains' direction and the wide 
ways." To any one will not all of these gifts be made lest pride 
injure him. 

Pt. V anticipates the third section — Judgment. On account 
of all these gifts and mercies, sore will fare the one that keepeth 
not the commands of the Savior. Terror will fill the heart of 
him who hath not kept the words of the Prince of Glory, when he 
Cometh a second time to judge the earth. Quaking and fearful 
shall they await the wrath of Him whom worlds obey, shall see 
their earthly gifts and laurels consumed in the fire that shall rage 
and stride fiercely with its ruddy flame, bright and swift, over the 
wide world. Plains shall crumble, citadels crash, ancient treas- 



30 I nivcTsity ol Oregon llulletm 

ures rise in smoke. God's kindness to man during probation, 
abused, will turn to sternness and wrath. The heavens shall shake 
and earth shall wail. Crime stained mortals shall be purged in 
fire, in a bath of flames. The cry of mourning, the terror of 
man shall mingle with the noises of the heavens, and he who is 
sinning would gladly part with all the wealth of the transient 
earth for a place in which to hide from the angry rush of a 
wrathful God coming in triumph. 

Life is like the sea over which we fare in ships; gliding over 
the ocean-flood, over the water cold, driving the flood-wood 
through the spacious sea with horses of the deep. "A perilous 
stream is this with boundless waves and these are stormy seas, 
on which we toss about. ^ ^ # The way was hard ere we 
had sailed unto the land. The help that came to us that brought 
us to the haven of salvation was God's spirit son, which gave us 
grace so that we may know even from the vessel's deck where 
we must bind with anchor fast our ocean steeds, old stallions of 
the waves." And the second section concludes with a prayer: — 
"0 let us rest our hope in that same haven which the ruler of 
sky opened for us, holy on high, when he to heaven ascended." 

Listen ! From the four corners of the earth comes the 
sound of trumpets. It is the day of judgment. The midearth 
quakes and the region under men. Boldly and gloriously the 
tones sing and chant from North and South, from East and 
West, o'er all creation, waking aghast from the tomb the sons of 
warrior men and all mankind and bidding them arise from their 
deep sleep and appear unto the final doom. Then a sunbeam 
from the south shall light the path of the Son of God as he 
appears from the vaults of heaven full of menace to some, but to 
the blessed, glorious. 

"Then the great creation shall resound and before the Lord 
shall go the greatest of all raging fires throughout the spacious 
earth, hot flame shall roar, the heavens shall burst, the steadfast 
and bright planets shall fall down. Then shall the sun be 
changed, all swart to the hue of blood, the sun which brightly 
shone for the sons of men above the former world. Likewise 
the moon, which erewhile gave light for mankind in the night, shall 
fall adown and the stars too shall descend from heaven, tempest- 
driven through the stormy air." 



i niveishy <>/ < >rcL:oii Hulletin 31 

God shall select the righteous from the wicked and " then 
through the spacious plain the voice of heaven's trumpet shall 
be heard aloud and on the seven sides the wind shall howl and 
blow and break with greatest noise, and wake and waste the 
world with storms and with their breath o'erflow the world's crea- 
tion. Then a hard crash, loud, immeasurable, heavy and vio- 
lent, the greatest of fierce dins, terrible for mortals, shall be 
manifest. Then legions of the race of men accurst shall wend in 
multitudes into wider flame and living shall there feel destroying 
fires, some up, some down, fulfilled with burning." 

Then follows, in the second, third, and fourth sections of the 
last third of the poem, a vivid account of the details of judgment 
where the thoughts and deeds of man since the beginning are 
laid bare before the Almighty Judge, who receives the righteous 
into the radiant beauty of his Father's realm, which home, joy- 
fully, before all worlds, was made ready for them when with the 
best beloved they might behold life's riches, the sweet delights of 
heaven. But to the unrighteous he recounts his experience with 
man, the fall, the banishment from Eden, his own coming in human 
guise to redeem man, the crucifixion and all the martyrdom he 
endured for man till then, the buffetings, the scourgings, the 
insults and all, in the case of these, to no avail, for in the hard- 
ness of their hearts they turned from him, " and now," he pro- 
claims, " 1 claim of thee that life which thou hast sinfully 
destroyed with vice to thine own shame. Render me thy life, 
for which in martyrdom, 1 gave thee once mine own as price. 
Why hast thou filthily defiled, by thine own will, through wicked 
lusts and through foul sin, thy tabernacle which 1 sanctified in 
thee to be the cherished home of my delight.'' ... Ye 
denied help to the poor . . . succor to the needy 
comfort to the sorrowful. ... Ye did this in scorn of me, 
heaven's King; wherefore . . . Go, now accursed, wilfully 
cut off from angel's joy, into eternal fire, which hot and fiercely 
grim was dight for the devil Satan and his comrades too and, all 
that swarthy shoal; therein shall ye fall." 

Sweeps then the victory sword and into the deep gulf, into 
the swart flame plunges the devil and his hosts to be wrapped in 
flame, lapped in eternal fire. Sorrow and penitence now avail 



32 ['nivcrsity ot Oregon Hiilletin 

naught to that one who in this life refused his opportunity for 
eternal salvation. Improve the opportunity then in this life, 
foster zealously the beauty of the soul, be wary in words and 
deeds, in habits and thoughts, while this world, speeding with its 
shadows, nnay still shine for man. And as a reward accept 
everlasting life, "begirt with light, bewrapt in peace, shielded 
from sorrow." In that land "there shall be angels' song; bliss of 
the happy; the cherished presence of the Lord brighter than the 
sun; . . . life without death's end; a gladsome host of men; 
youth without age; the glory of heavenly chivalry." A glorious 
clime where there shall be for the blessed " health without pain, 
rest A'ithout toil, day without gloom, where radiant and joyful there 
shall'be happiness without sorrow, friendship without feud, peace 
without enmity, where there is neither hunger nor thirst, sleep 
nor sickness, heat nor cold nor care; but where the company of 
the blest, the fairest of all hosts, shall there forever enjoy their 
Sovran's grace and glory with their King. 

The personal element in the Christ is intense. The poet 
deplores the natural proneness of man toward evil, beseeches the 
throne of grace for pardon, repents his years misspsnt and 
breaks forth in songs of rejoicing and praise that the power that 
rules over all has provided a pardon large enough to cover all of 
man's transgression. 

The "Christ" is more than a homily in verse*, it is a series 
of lyrics that suggests a choral endingt, that contains passage 
after passage of thanksgiving and celebration of the attributes of 
the Redeemer. The poem would fall into that class of work 
influenced directly by monasticism in England and is distinc- 
tively Christian in tone. It possesses gorgeousness of ornamenta- 
tion, unique conceits, strength of imagery, great vividness of 
dramatic description and often a marked floridity of style. The 
angels are spoken of as "wrapt in harmony" and the angelic 
hosts pictured as flying as near as possible to the fierce light of 
the throne. The familiar similes of the Son of Man coming in 
judgment as a thief in the night "even as some wily robber, 
some daring thief that prowleth in the dark in the swart night," 



*Courthope's "History of English poetry," Vol. 1. p. 103. 

■f-Stopford Brooke's "History of Enjj. Literature." p. ;5<)0. 



Uinvcrsity of Ore/ion Bulletin 33 

and life being like a sea o'er which we pass in boats are said to 
be the first similies in Anglo-Saxon poetry*. And what scene 
can be more awfully dramatic than when on the judgment day the 
Rood, the sacred tree on which Christ hung — for which in an 
agony of shame and grief full many a tree beneath its bark was 
suffused with tears, bloody and thick, the sap all turned to gore — 
the Rood stood high to heaven before the children of men, 
gleaming with a light that dimmed the light of the sun, dripping 
with the holy blood of heaven's King, moistened with the sweat of 
his death agony. There men beheld even the ancient gaping 
wounds whose lips though mute spoke eloquently of the anguish 
Christ suffered at the hands of those whom he came to redeem. 

The poem abounds in variety and richness of epithet. 
Mary is the "choicest of maidens," "damsel renowned." The 
ships are "horses of the deep," " flood-wood," "ocean steeds," 
"old stallions of the waves." The power of evil is represented as 
" accursed wolf," "beast of darkness," " man's destroyer," 
"the mind's destroyer," "accursed hell-sprites," "hated hell- 
fiends," and the wicked spoken of as " shoals of the pernicious." 
Christ is the " Great Leader in Bethany," " Helm of Glory," 
"Lord Majestic," Bounteous Dispenser," "Splendour's Lord," 
"Heaven's Lord," "Source of Man's Life," "Creation's 
Source," " God's Spirit Son," "The Savior Child," " Glory's 
Treasury," "The Lord of Empire." 

Such in the abstract is the poem " Christ " in which the 
two poetic elements of Prayer and Praise predominate. The 
sources of the poem are few and so scanty that they can be 
called really no more than suggestions— a Latin homily, a Latin 
poem, an apocryphal tradition. These are all that, aside from 
the scriptural narratives, can be said to have influenced to any 
extent this poem of Cynewulf. And the influence of these was 
slight, a clause or at most a sentence or two, furnishing the idea 
that stirred iii the poet's mind a perfect rush of song, that poured 
forth full and glorious in bursts of sustained and triumphant har- 
mony. The idea was from without, the song was his own, and 
the passionate throbbings of a poet's soul, of a devout poet's soul, 
the flood of melody in lyric after lyric, the beauty of fancy, the 



^Ten Brink: Vol. 1, p. 



34 University of Oregon Bulletin 

ruggedness and grandeur of diction, the quickness of apprecia- 
tion of drannatic situations and their possibilities, the intensity of 
the personal element bring us in this product of Cynewulf's art 
most closely to the poet who wrote so much and left no known 
record save in his work, and even for whose name the runes were 
forced to give up their secrets. 



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